Folded Word
Exploring the world, one voice at a time.
My Own Nairobi
“How is it possible to bring order out of memory.”
~Beryl Markham, West with the Night.
In the mud on the bottom of my boots,
I spot a flake of gold mixed in.
I take a sharp knife and loosen it out
staring at it as if it were an entire nugget.
I hammer a stake into the ground to lay
my claim expecting a vein of gold.
Near the riverbed, I notice an abandoned
campfire with its grey ashes smoking.
Someone stuck a wooden matchstick
into the dirt headfirst to put it out.
Look over there, there by the saltlick
where I used to lay old apples for the deer:
human footprints. Were there others panning
for gold fragments on the river bank?
Did they find what they were looking for?
Is it possible they were looking for me?
©2018 by Jimmy Pappas
Jimmy Pappas is a member of the board for the Poetry Society of New Hampshire. His poem “Bobby’s Story” was voted Rattle‘s prestigious Readers Choice Award for 2017.
